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Smartphone games are notoriously addictive. No matter how ridiculous the game, be it slicing fruit or killing pigs with birds, people can be seen furiously twiddling away at their phones. Candy Crush was born in April 2012, and no one could have predicted its violent addictiveness—after all, it is only Bejeweled’s saccharine cousin. Nonetheless, coming straight from the ninth circle of hell, it has officially enslaved billions and made its way to LCDS.

All we see is candy. Controlled by our obsession, the only time we can feel secure is when all five precious lives are in the bank (and we know we wouldn’t trade our souls for those babies). Whenever we ask our friends if they actually pay for lives they answer, “Why would I pay money for a free game?” This reply seems reasonable, until the profits of Candy Crush are uncovered: a crushing $633,000 a day; I’m not a math teacher, but…someone’s lying.

Ruining lives from left to right, Candy Crush has made most of the Upper School Crushaholics. It has established a love-hate relationship for everyone on a global scale, and this somewhat parasitic relationship is present at Country Day. Changing people from pleasant to monstrous, approachable to withdrawn, and—ironically—sweet to bitter, it has altered LCDS as a whole. As it sucks the life out of the student body, the colors of the candies seem to get more vibrant, attracting us like flies to a fresh bowl of rotten fruit. When a user doesn’t get his next fix, withdrawal symptoms are brutal. Sweat beads on the forehead, nausea overwhelms the body, and hallucinations take people onto the edge of insanity.

The worst-case scenario of a hallucination occurred for Alex D. in his chemistry class. As Mrs. Meskey assigned the class another lab, he lost it, and suddenly his classmates began to transform into little colorful candies. He jumped up and tried to swipe at the “candies” hoping for a combination. He was soon knocked out cold; when he awoke, he had no memory of his psychotic episode.

It always starts with the innocent, “Maybe just one more level…,” and before we know it we haven’t slept for days. No one wants Candy Crush to take over, but as Paidin A. says, “The Candy Crush life chose me.”